


Cause we were the perfect two, Love

by AToZRainToBe



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Awkward Romance, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Fundy (mentioned) - Freeform, Gen, Im Projecting, Phil (mentioned) - Freeform, School AU (?), Wilbur Soot Needs a Hug, Wilbur Soot-centric, kinda but not really ?, the situation is complex, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27722662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AToZRainToBe/pseuds/AToZRainToBe
Summary: (Heavily inspired by my relationship with the songs “Perfect Two” by Love and “i hate u, i love you” by gnash.)Sally wasn’t as perfect as he thought- but she was right, and he hates himself for that.
Relationships: Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot/Sally (Dream SMP)
Kudos: 45





	Cause we were the perfect two, Love

**Author's Note:**

> (TW: Abuse? Kinda mentioned but not actively discussed, Thoughts about Death, Crying.)

The ceiling is familiar. 

His face is wet with tears and his hands ache to hold someone who isn’t there. He claws at the sheets as his throat opens and closes with each godforsaken sob that rips itself from his body. He’s pathetic, so fucking pathetic, laying there and crying. 

Somewhere between desperately gasping for air and his entire body feeling like stone glued to the mattress beneath, hot sticky tears manage to pool at the space where his head meets the pillow. Everything is far too hot, and yet he can’t move, begging the world to do  _ something  _ other than let him lay there and die. 

And it feels like dying. Every inch of his body is on fire and yet, it’s calm. The silence of the room is deafeningly loud, humming in his ear. His thoughts blur to static, bones filled with the same buzzed feeling. 

Even his sadness makes no noise other than desperate gasping. It’s not enough to fill the void that opens up where his heart should be, swallowing anything other than the pain in his throat and the emptiness that weaves through his veins. He imagines this is what it’s like to die. 

He imagines that this is worse than death. 

He decides it’s somewhere in between. 

His fist flings up to his mouth, where his teeth bite down enough to muffle the choked sob of a name;  _ Sally.  _

It seems like forever since they split, somewhere between lovers and best friends. When she had turned around and moved away, part of him had wanted to drop everything to be the coat that she kept from his closet. She hadn’t even begged him. 

He knew it was his fault. He was never enough. 

She wanted more, she wanted freedom- and she deserved it. She deserved every inch of the happiness she got without him and Fundy. Their ‘son’ would never know what happened behind closed doors, he knew that much. He would make sure of that much. 

But every smile Fundy sent his way was tainted with something more than sadness, something like understanding. And it  _ hurt.  _

Because Sally was gone, and she had smashed the vase he got her, she had broken his guitar and ruined his hair and bruised his back until he felt just as broken as the shards of wood and glazed clay on the floor. She was gone, and she had taken every bit of him with her. 

He hadn’t told anyone. Phil did his best to support him, and yet here he was, sobbing in silence because he was too goddamn pathetic to get up and ask for help. He wasn’t worth the help. 

She was right. She was right and he couldn’t do anything about it. 

When she had yelled at him for abandoning her- she was right. When she had called him a coward, a disappointment, an insult to the family, she was right and he couldn’t do anything but desperately cry for her to stop. 

He was the villain, he was sure of that much. And Fundy would know that much, if Sally ever spoke to him again. He wasn’t sure he’d ever manage to leave this tomb in the shape of a bed. God, he thinks. Crying like this is disgusting. 

“Stop,” His broken voice cries to the silence. “Stop, please, I don’t want to die.”

Part of him wishes he had the courage to do exactly the same thing to her. To anyone, just to know that he mattered to someone. He longed for the fresh air, the regret, for something other than empty numbness ringing in his ears and choking him until he stops breathing. 

The ceiling is familiar, because he knows the grooves and cracks in it. He knows the way it creaks in the dead of the night, knows how it will move. He knows it, just like he knew her. 

And he’s so goddamn pathetic for leaving her. Even if it killed him to stay, even if it broke every piece of his jigsaw-puzzle heart, he’s pathetic for doing it. For texting her, not even bothering to show up at her house and say something before she moved. 

He had waited until her house was put up for sale, and he had  _ texted  _ her. 

Every inch of his energy spills from him as he sobs, head pounding to the beat of his heart. His hand feels like it’s on fire, burning with pain as he bites down on it, wishing that it would leave a mark deep enough to scar so that he had something other than words and memories no one else witnessed to back up what she had done. 

They were supposed to be forever. They were supposed to stay together, to graduate together, to  _ be  _ together. But he had abandoned her, and she had left town, and they hadn’t spoken in months. He blocked her number.

And it didn’t stop him from crying. Even if he wanted to believe it would. It didn’t stop him from staring at the ceiling in the dark. He shuts his eyes, drawing one last tear from his eyes.

The ceiling is familiar, and he’s so fucking selfish. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah ok so basically I’m continuously projecting onto Wilbur. Dw though it’s been three years and I am getting better, but it’s just a three steps back kinda moment this week? 
> 
> Anyway for context; basically they’re in school, I guess? It’s not really mentioned but I assume they would be. Sally and Wilbur were “dating” and often joked about being Fundy’s parents because they spent a lot of time introducing him to things in the school and their own friends, as well as helping him out when his real parents couldn’t. Just buds that were kind of playing the parent roles. And then Sally just kinda, up and leaves, probably because her family is kinda messed up. Things go wrong before she moves, but they’ve been wrong for a long time, and now that Wilbur doesn’t have to put her first at all times he has to confront the fact that he’s kinda lonely and honestly kinda messed up. 
> 
> Remember to love yourselves and others <3


End file.
